


(Don't) Tempt Me

by glorygore



Series: The lowkey nasty diaries [1]
Category: The Vampire Diaries (TV)
Genre: M/M, Orgasm Denial, Sassy Damon Salvatore, Sexual Torture, Skull Fucking, Torture, Unresolved Romantic Tension, but not really?, i.e regular damon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-08-03
Updated: 2019-08-03
Packaged: 2020-07-30 12:37:53
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,798
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20097352
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/glorygore/pseuds/glorygore
Summary: Inspired by the events in season 2 episode 7.This is what would've happened if I wrote the show; gay, sex, and pain. Lots of pain.





	(Don't) Tempt Me

Damon woke up strapped with chains to a chair and a metal poker stuck inside his stomach, seeing his own blood, feeling his own pain, his first thought went to Stefan. But though Stefan could be psycho at will, he knew this wasn’t his little brother’s bored attempt of revenge as it was very beyond his style of torture, even with his switch flipped. 

A rush of adrenaline sprung out from his fingertips and down to his groin in an instant, and a shivering sigh left his lips. Somehow, the dead ghost of Mason fucking Lockwood had come back to get his revenge for his death. 

And Damon couldn’t be more ecstatic. 

“I know you’re there”, Damon huffed and struggled a bit in the chains, and they dug down deeper into his skin. “It smells like wet dog in here.” 

He then saw his ring tossed on the floor, and he visibly shivered.

“What are you waiting for, boy? Aren’t you going to show me just how angry a dog can get?” 

At that, the metal poker in his stomach twists meanly, and he screams into the visibly empty room. Seething between his teeth, he glanced down and the blood pouring out from the wound and onto his growing pants. I’m so, so sick, he thought and bucked his hips upwards just to get some friction right where he need it, even if it’s uncomfortably chafing. 

“Done already?” he groaned into the room, eyes darting around to find some sort of proof of Mason even being there. “I didn’t take you for a quitter.” He bucked up again, and groaned louder; the searing pain from the metal poker in him, the twisted chains around his body holding him in place, and his hard cock in his pants is almost too much, but yet not enough. “Coward.” 

Another twist on the poker came only seconds later; more blood and unbelievable pain rushing through, Damon almost couldn’t breathe. His head was spinning, limbs numbing, but his dick harder than ever before. 

“That’s it”, he wheezed, throat raw from screaming. “that’s what I deserve, isn’t it? I tortured you for _hours_.” 

Then, in an instant, he knew he wasn’t alone, truly. 

“You weren’t even able to say goodbye”, he continued, hoping to stir up some anger out of the werewolf-ghost, to have his insides ripped out of his mouth or _anything at all_. To make him _feel_ something again. “Sometimes, that’s worse than torture, knowing well that your loved ones never found out what happened to y-“ He’s cut out by his own screaming, face burning worse than hellfire on his skin from the curtains that had been drawn apart. As soon as they closed and Damon was left shaking in pain; his skin bleeding and sizzling, he saw the image of Mason in the corner of his eye and he grinned. “There he is.” 

Mason walked around the chair with his eyes bored into Damon, and a visible frown between them. He looked… confused and a little bit pissed off, Damon could tell from the way his jaw worked. 

“Why?” Mason demanded between his teeth, and kept walking around the chair, inspecting his creation.

“Why _what_?” Damon wheezed, and felt a wider grin creeping onto his lips. “Why I tortured you? Why I killed you? Specify your question.” 

Mason stopped to a halt in front of him, eyes thin with question.

“Why do you like this?” 

Ah.

Damon couldn’t help but let a laugh slip. His dick had gone softer in his pants, but was still visible to both himself and Mason, and he occasionally moved his hips to let the sensation of it draw a hushed gasp out of him, and of course Mason had noticed, and of course he was confused. 

“Because I’m an _awfully_ sick individual who happens to enjoy most things that are generally terrible. Come on, Mason, are you truly that surprised?” 

Mason eyed him distastefully. 

“So why should I keep going? You brought me nothing but pain, and I tried to repay, but you’re just enjoying it.” He snarled. “Maybe I should kill all the people you love instead. Let’s say, Elena for example.” 

“You could do that”, Damon laughed. “But in the end, I will probably find a way to enjoy that memory as well, and you’d kill her for nothing.” He tilted his head backwards, unthinkingly exposing his bare neck to the werewolf, and raised an eyebrow. “Why did you keep going when you could see how I responded?” 

Mason seemed to choke on his tongue and looked away. Damon shook with laughter. 

“I killed you, that’s done. I can’t undo my actions. But you’re here now, and you kept going, and going. How about we put our hatred aside and just enjoy things for what they are? Or… better yet, keep the hate, and give me _everything you’ve got_.” 

There’s a beat, and a pause, and a longer pause. Damon almost opened his mouth to say something incredibly stupid, because that’s what he does, when Mason suddenly got closer and squeezed his throat with his fingertips; digging his nails into the skin. Damon gasped for air, but waited patiently for Mason to talk. 

“I’m going to kill you”, Mason grumbled into his ear. 

“So I can become a ghost too and we’ll torture each other for eternity? _Fun_”, Damon responded just as grumbly. “Let’s face it, wolf-boy, you want this. We both want this. You’ve longed _so long_ to do me dirty like this.” 

Mason snarled and his fingernails dug so deep blood leaked out. Then, with his other hand, he twisted the metal poker. And the games had begun. 

Mason caught Damon’s underlip between his teeth, and brought his face closer by his fingernails in his throat. There’s blood intertwined with saliva, and every fiber in Damon’s body is fighting whatever Mason is up to, because he _loves_ to play games. And he would hate it if Mason had all the fun. 

“I didn’t take you for a romantic.” Damon breathed hard when Mason broke their kiss, if it could be called that as it was more teeth and blood and deep bitemarks. “You know, torturing someone usually doesn’t involve warming someone up for- _ah_!” He hit his neck against the back of the chair as Mason took a hold of the metal poker and drove it out of Damon’s body, and into his thigh. He shook with pain, fighting to keep his eyelids open to meet Mason’s heavy gaze. 

“You were saying?” Mason snorted. 

Adrenaline was rushing through Damon’s veins, and he felt the old familiar survival instinct kicking in, and it filled his head with a drug-like fog. Everything hurt, and he loved it. He had almost forgotten what true pain felt like, as a vampire he needed everything more, bigger, and worse than he had as a human. 

He had completely forgotten what it was like to feel pleasure from normal things. 

And there he was, having chains dug deep into his body, a metal poker sticking out of his bloody thigh, and his dick yet again so hard it almost combusted. He moved his hips again, and let out a low moan. 

Mason snarled at that, and grabbed onto his cock and squeezed impossibly hard. Damon convulsed in the chair, seeing white through the seething pain. 

“You will not do that again, do you understand?” He growled, his hand still squeezed around Damon through his pants, all while he worked his hand up and down roughly. It was far from feeling good, but Damon shuddered in pleasure anyway. “Or I will take the poker out of your leg and put it through your dick. Or maybe you’d like that as well?”

“Got it”, Damon hissed in response, and stopped moving. Mason chuckled, and unbuckled his pants and took his hard dick out. It was flushed red and swollen, the head glistening with precum.

“Good”, he murmured and tugged on it, watching Damon intently, and Damon groaned. His lips were slightly parted and eyes closed, focusing in on the feeling of having attention on his arousal. 

“_God_”, Damon breathed and bucked his hips ups, allowing Mason to get more of him out, and wishing Mason could bring him over the edge that he had been running towards for decades, but the flames in the werewolf’s eyes spoke clearly for how he won’t do just that, and they’re dark, deep, full of things that Damon had never seen before. All the cocky, thinks he know it all-Mason is gone, and left is what Damon would have feared if he wasn’t who he was. 

Mason had officially left the room, and before him stood the monster. Not just the werewolf, because none of those attributes are visible to the naked eye, but a different kind of monster that’s been buried deep inside for a long time. Damon suspects it’s the monster he created when he murdered the man. And now, it looks right at him, ready to unhinge its jaw and swallow him right down its gullet, breath coming in and out rough and raw. 

Damon breathed in a ragged, surprised breath when Mason hit the floor with his knees, and he watched the blue-eyed man suspiciously. The sudden moan he let out when Mason’s hot mouth closed around his shaft and swallowed it down was replaced by a whine when he also squeezed his balls roughly with his right hand while playing with the metal poker with his left. 

“I love a multitasker”, Damon screeched. It’s mostly pain, but a little bit of pleasure slipping through occasionally as he stops fiddling with the poker for just a moment to drag the tip of his tongue along the underside of Damon’s dick, but only just enough for Damon to relax into the pleasure, and then be brought into the white pain once again. But even so, he can feel it building in him. In his mind he’s getting closer to the edge, and ready to sprint over it, into it, dive through the water. “That’s it”, he whispers. “I- ah, I’m there- _ha_…” 

Mason sucked harder, squeezed more tightly, and if Damon weren’t unable to create babies already then Mason would’ve had made that a reality by now. And just when Damon’s toes were by the edge, legs bent to jump, Mason stopped and grabs him by the end of his shaft.

“Don’t”, he growled. “If you come I’ll snap this chair’s legs in half and drive one of them through your heart.” 

Damon wavered between being disobedient and force himself over the edge anyway, because he needed it that badly, or actually obey. Because who knew that Mason could be this much fun? Besides, he wasn’t not ready to die just yet. 

He shuddered and leaned back into the chair. Mason hummed.

“Very good”, he mumbled. “I decide if you get to come or not, got it?” 

“_If_?” Damon gaped, and suddenly regrets not taking the opportunity. Mason laughed. 

“Did you really think I was doing this for just _your_ enjoyment?” He asked darkly and stood up. “I happen to be pretty fucked up myself. I’ve learned that being tortured to death does that to you.” 

“Who would’ve thought”, Damon grinned in a way that doesn’t quite reach his eyes as he’s so focused on watching Mason’s every move. He wasn’t afraid, not really, but an ice cold shiver went through his core nevertheless, leaving him unmoving and speechless. The front of Mason’s pants were just as raised as Damon’s were, and Damon snickered slightly. 

“Seeing as I’ve locked you up so nicely, and I don’t want to ruin my creation,” Mason unbuckled his own pants and tugs his own dick a few times. Damon watched it through big, dark eyes and his mouth suddenly started to salivate. Mason walked closer to his face, dick bobbing with every small step. “your mouth will just have to do.” With a tight grip on the back of Damon’s head, he guided his face towards his cock and Damon opened his mouth immediately as he felt the head touch his lips, and Mason pushed himself in. 

It was big and heavy on his tongue and it went down his throat effortless. 

“You’ve done this before”, Mason commented, voice ragged and breath coming out in huffs. 

Damon just hummed in affirmation, and tried to open his throat wider for Mason’s cock. The second thrust brought a choked noise out of the werewolf and he was flushed red on all the skin that Damon could see through his watering eyes. Mason almost stood on his toes to get as much of his cock in Damon’s throat as humanly – or, well, supernaturally – possible. But he let out a sound that almost sounded disappointed when Damon took more of him deeper inside. 

“No”, he rasped, and Damon raised a questioning eyebrow at him with his throat stuffed with cock. “Close your throat.” 

Damon sat still, eyes squinting. Mason pulled his cock out with a string of saliva hanging from Damon’s lip, and grabbed a hold of his chin. 

“I said”, he gritted, face close and demanding. “Close. Your. Throat.” 

Then he forced himself inside Damon’s mouth again. Damon took it as good as he could, while also unlearning everything he had been taught about dick-sucking, and closed the back of his throat. At the first thrust, he did something he hadn’t done in a while; he gagged. 

“That’s right”, Mason groaned. Damon fought through a second gag and shot a deadly glare at Mason who just laughed. He then grabbed Damon’s head with both hands and shot his hips forward, hitting the back of his throat with every forceful thrust, and judging by how hard and fast he’s going, Damon wouldn’t be surprised if his goal was to literally skull fuck him. 

The sound of Mason’s pleasure, and the filthy noises of his cock in Damon’s throat bounced around the room and filled it with a thick, dark atmosphere that Damon absorbed as much as he could through his nostrils, surprised that he even remembered how to breathe when it hurt so good, felt so good. 

He was completely at the will of Mason Lockwood, compliable like a usable doll. He took it, just like Mason wanted him too and he obliged; wanted it, needed it. 

Then, like a sudden snap of a rubber band, Mason grabbed a hold of his shoulders, as if he wanted to pull him off but he stayed still. Mason stifled out an animalistic growl and came spasming down his throat, filling his mouth with liquid. Damon swallowed down every drop. Mason was hunched over when his dick begun to half in size, his short hair sweaty and plastered to his forehead, body vibrating. 

Without a word did Mason begin to put his cock back into his pants and walked away, Damon felt a surge of something close to panic.

“Um, Mason?” he called out as brightly as he could with his throat-fucked voice. 

Mason looked back at him, eyes glinting with something closer to an animal than human. 

“I did say ‘if’, didn’t I?” he shot back, and his toothy smile bared his werewolf fangs. 

Damon struggled in the chains for the first time, almost desperate to get out. But it was crystal clear that the chains wouldn’t give out, nor that Mason would help him. He huffed frustratedly and watched the werewolf walk away from him and towards the front door.

“Where are you going?” Damon demanded to know. _Will I see you again_, was left unsaid because Damon wasn’t needy. But Mason… intrigued him, dead or alive didn’t seem to matter in this Godforsaken town. 

“I have things I need to do before Death take me for good”, he replied and winked. Something deep inside churned at that, but Damon made sure that he didn’t let any of it show on his face. 

When Mason had left, Damon let out a breath he didn’t know he had kept inside. It hurt gravelly on the way out, and his every pore seized with the aftermath of excruciating pain. But he hadn’t felt so alive and _content_ in a long time. Like he was finally whole and rested. If he had known it just took being tortured and skull-fucked by the ghost of Mason Lockwood he would have forced Bonnie to find a way to bring him back sooner. And perhaps that is all he needed for a long while. Perhaps he can be fine now. 

He glanced at the way Mason had left and felt a tiny tug on his heartstrings, and he let out a tired sigh. Perhaps not, but that was a problem for the future.


End file.
